Never Miss A Beat
by doubleshotcaffeine
Summary: The 17th annual Hunger Games was one of pride, revenge, morality and pure insanity. The thin line between ‘alliance’ and ‘love’ was crossed, stereotypes were broken, and it was so, so brutal. Yet, we don’t remember it. This is their story.
1. Chapter 1: Waiting

Chapter One: Waiting.

Bryson's feet were hitting the ground, one after the other around the edges of District Nine. Two o'clock in the morning, and he was running again, his dark hair dripping, pale skin shining. He hadn't slept the night before the Reaping since he turned eleven, five years ago. With every extra slip that went into that orb, every year, he ran faster. Faster and faster until he couldn't run anymore, because he knew that if he was chosen, that was all he could do to survive.

***

"ASPEN! NO!" Rain screamed in her sleep. Her younger brother had turned eleven last week, the week before the Reaping. This was the one fear that tore Rain apart more than any other, that her brother would be chosen the next day and nobody would volunteer for him. Illogical, really, considering it was District Four, and volunteers were heroes. An eleven year old wouldn't stay up there for long. As Rain woke up, shivering, sweating, she tried to reason. "There's always going to be a volunteer, a Career. Right?"

***

Amara sat by herself in the 'kitchen' of the abandoned, run-down shed she called a home, her black her falling in waves across her face. The clock on the wall read 4.02 AM. It may, or may not, have been in working order. But Amara didn't care. She was bracing herself for the Reaping. Bracing herself for the day that she, a seemingly normal girl from District Ten, would volunteer. For the sake of revenge, defiance, or pure insanity, she would volunteer.

***

Jasmine's sleeping that night was distinctly unrestful. She expected that one, she figured every child between the ages of eleven and eighteen would be 'distinctly unrestful' in District Nine that night. She heard footsteps every now and then, a sure sign that there were people out of bed, wandering, running. But Jasmine just lay there, contemplative. Seven slips, she had in that orb. Less than the poorer street children, but seven nonetheless. Jasmine was scared, as much as she hated to admit it. Sure, her parents may not care; her friends may not be real friends. Regardless of that, Jasmine was terrified, if only for herself.

***

Bryson hadn't showered, slept, eaten. He just changed, under his father's instructions of 'looking presentable' and proceeded to the square of District Nine. His legs ached, and for that he mentally berated himself. How could he win if he couldn't run far enough? He'd never be able to. But with his chin up, and a stony face, he stood towards the back of the square. He waited.

Jasmine passed Bryson on the way to the square, but took no notice. He was just another resident, just another face that was trying to be emotionless. Just like Bryson, Jasmine was trying not to show her fear. Yet far more people noticed Jasmine than they did Bryson. Jasmine, in her special blue, floaty Reaping dress, was stunning. Some may argue that Jasmine was stunning every day, but today especially so, with the exception of the sadness, the fear in her eyes. And so she stood, 'emotionless'. And she waited.

***

Rain held tightly to her younger brother's hand as the pair walked solemnly to the square. Aspen was a little scared, certainly, but more confused than his elder sibling as he felt the waves of fear, anticipation, roll off of her body. He didn't understand the emotion given through the kiss to the top of his head as he walked away, towards the front of the square. But Rain was trembling with fear that a particular name would be called. Not hers, no, she didn't give a thought to that. But her brother's name being pulled out of that orb would break her. And so she stood silently, trembling. Waiting.

***

Amara was ready. She hadn't been more ready since her sister was killed in these games four years ago. Amara's sister was the better sister, blonde, giggly, seemingly supernatural. So when her name had been called and her skull had been crushed, the family died along with her. Amara's father and mother committed a joint suicide on the anniversary of her sister's death. Amara had no one, nobody cared. But that was okay, because Amara was going to tear that goddamn Capitol apart for tearing apart her family. Amara had taken out 50 lots of tesserae that year, just in case, so that her name was so much more likely to be called. She had no need for any of the grain and such, but she gave it to the poorer children with what heart she had left. And she waited.

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Heya guys, hope you enjoyed this. There'll be more coming shortly, so keep checking!

xxo


	2. Chapter 2: The Reaping

Chapter Two: The Reaping

Bryson and Jasmine waited solemnly, apart from each other but with feelings quite alike. Feelings of hatred for the Capitol, fear for their friends, fear for themselves. They stood in the square of District Nine attempting not to convey the emotion that threatened to tear them apart inside. They knew they could do it, just as they had every other year, so they waited in silence for the Capitol's representative stood up, dressed in a silly blue wig and matching sparkly trousers. She would've been quite a hilarious sight had she not been about to bring terrible news.  
"Good afternoon and welcome to the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games!" the representative announced in her ridiculous, high-pitched Capitol tone. The children listened to her blab on for a little while before she got down to what they were anxious to hear. "Let's cut down to the chase then shall we? Lucky ladies first!" The representative reached into the orbs with every girl's name on a slip of paper. Every child in the district, especially the girls, stood up that little bit straighter as the representative cleared her voice.

"And the lucky tribute from District Nine is… Jasmine Diamond!" the representative gushed. Jasmine sighed. It wasn't her, she thought, as she relaxed. And that was when someone poked her in the back.  
"Jasmine, it's you. Jasmine." The voice said. And then it clicked, it WAS her. Jasmine's footsteps were wobbly as she make her way up to the stage, as emotionless as she could be. Her beautiful face blank, she stood on the stage, thanked the representative with hatred in her eyes, and watched as she pulled a name out of the boy's orb.

"Joining our female tribute, Jasmine, in her quest for triumph will be… Bryson Connor!" Bryson felt the urge to run, further, faster than he ever had before. He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to go there to die. He didn't want to die; did the Capitol not understand that?!? He deliberately slowed himself down on the way to the stage; he couldn't give himself away yet. He shook hand with the girl on stage but did not notice her beauty like he had so many times before; she was just a tribute now. Just another one of the living dead.

***

In District Four, the land of the volunteers, Rain was already praying for her brother's safety, and the Mayor hadn't even started his speech yet. But rain couldn't lose Aspen, not to the Games. But for once, time went so much faster than rain hoped they would, not like in classes, or awkward situations. Before she knew it, the lady in the crazy Capitol fashion was reaching her manicured, dyed hand into the Orb. Rain was so busy praying for Aspen she didn't even hear her name being called. But she was being pushed up, onto the stage. Rain only then realized how much danger she was in then. Then, for once, maybe in the history of the entire Games, there was not a single female volunteer for District Four. Rain was it, the living dead, the tribute. Still, she kept praying for Aspen. So she was relieved when some average Career named Aven stepped up. But nobody had stepped up for her.

***

Amara zoned out for the entire preamble to the Reaping in District Ten. She was just waiting for a female name to be called, so that she could rush up and gain her rightful place as a soon-to-be champion, a tribute. She was ready to bring the Capitol down. She was somewhat hopeful that her name would actually be called, so that she would not have to reveal exactly how dedicated to winning she was, that she was a force to be reckoned with, not just another tribute. But it wasn't her name that was called as a trembling eleven-year-old by the name of Daisy stumbled up in her oversized clothes, trembling, sobbing. Amara had a fleeting moment of pride as she realized that she would be doing good for others to, not just taking revenge. So when the question was asked of 'Are there any volunteers?" She raised her hand as high as she could, running up to the stage to take the girls' place, giving the small child a hug along the way, a small 'thank you' being whispered in Amara's ear. The family of the girl was thanking her silently, as were the rest of the district. But that was not Amara's motive. She spoke loudly and clearly into the microphone. "My name is Amara Vander. I volunteer as the female tribute for District Ten."

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Thanks for reading guys! An extra special shout out to soccergirl, whose review of my last chapter was what got this out so quickly!

xxo


	3. Chapter 3: Who Do You Live For?

Chapter Three: Who Do You Live For?

Rain sat, head bowed, in the waiting room until her family arrived to say their goodbyes. She couldn't believe this was happening, since when was there not a volunteer? But it couldn't be changed now, that was certain. Along with the fact that in Rain's mind, she was going to die. It was inevitable, but she wasn't ready for something as dangerous as the Games. Rain couldn't hurt a fly, she was far too interested in saving the lives of others, like her brother. Her brother who, at that moment, ran into the room and threw himself on her lap.  
"Please don't go Rain! Don't go, I don't want you to go!" Aspen cried. He understood what was going on, and he knew his sister too well to be deluded into thinking she would fight. Every child in the district knew what happened to tributes that didn't fight: they died.

***

Amara wasn't expecting anyone to visit her in the waiting room, to be honest. She was simply expecting to sit there, twiddling her thumbs until the Peacekeepers came to put her on the train. Amara was simply remembering the last time she was in this room, to say goodbye to her sister. Her sister hadn't volunteered, of course, and she wasn't a fighter. But Amara had hugged her and cried, and made her promise to come back. It wasn't a promise that was kept, but that was the fault of the Capitol. So Amara was extremely surprised when a small child ran opened the door, and in came a girl who looked about eleven and her entire family, including two toddlers clinging to her oversized Reaping outfit. Amara was confused; she didn't have any family, not anymore…then it clicked. This was the girl she saved from her fate, saved from the Games, at least for this year. The girl's mother walked directly over to Amara and kissed the top of her head.  
"Thank you. Thank you for saving my baby. You must try hard to win, as I know you have the power to do so inside of you. Promise me you'll try." The woman's soft words held such power that Amara could not deny her an answer.  
"I promise. If not for myself, then for my sister. Keep your children safe, as there will be no second chances." The woman nodded, and called her daughter forward. The daughter that Amara had saved pressed a small item into Amara's hand.  
"Here, please take this for your token miss. It's full of good luck; apparently you need some of that." In Amara's hand was a miniscule wooden flower on a thin leather rope, beautifully crafted and smooth. This was her token.

***

Bryson and Jasmine sat as far away from each other as they could on the small couch on the train, waiting for someone to come and talk to them about how they were going to die, and then dismiss them so that they could get away from the other tributes. Bryson was tapping his feet against the floor, subconsciously running away from the conscious nightmare that had become his life, or what was left of it. His token sat on his hip, a small, old machine that told him what speed he was running at. Though it currently read zero, Bryson's mind was going a hundred miles an hour, but not with coherent thoughts. He was just scared, terrified. Pessimistic, and rightly so. How could someone with no killing ability win the Games?

Jasmine was still scared, but a little less pessimistic. She still held the opinion that she was going to die, but she was strategizing. She had a few attributes that could help her, as humble as she was. Jasmine might have been stunning, but she was more intelligent than that. And her parents may not have actually cared about her, but they did teach her how to fight, how to stand up for what she believed in. But somewhere in the back of Jasmine's mind was the fact that nobody, NOBODY, had come to say their goodbyes when she was sitting in that waiting room all by herself. Did nobody care, did nobody love her? Jasmine had come to the realization that as popular as she was she had no real friends and no real life – so what did she have to live for?

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Hey to the few of you who're reading! :) I know it's been longer than I said, my server completely crashed..but it's better now, so read and review and spread the loveeee. Big thanks to Operation TACKLEHUG who left a great review. xo


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